


Get Some of This

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-11
Updated: 2008-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to my beta <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/atlantisgrrrl/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/atlantisgrrrl/"><strong>atlantisgrrrl</strong></a> for her careful work. *HUGS BETA*</p><p>Written for a <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/"><strong>rounds_of_kink</strong></a> prompt by <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladydey/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladydey/"><strong>ladydey</strong></a>: <em>He really didn't like the way that that woman was looking at John. [kink: possessiveness].</em> Established relationship, a bit fluffy.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Get Some of This

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/atlantisgrrrl/profile)[**atlantisgrrrl**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/atlantisgrrrl/) for her careful work. *HUGS BETA*
> 
> Written for a [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/) prompt by [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladydey/profile)[**ladydey**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladydey/): _He really didn't like the way that that woman was looking at John. [kink: possessiveness]._ Established relationship, a bit fluffy.

Matt played idly with his drink, running his finger down the side of the tall, slender glass, catching droplets of cool condensation. He couldn't see John and had given up searching a long time ago; he figured he had looked really gawky, one foot on the ground, the other foot propped up on the metal foot-rest of the stool, craning his neck as he tried to get a glimpse of John's bald head. He couldn't help it; he felt very uncomfortable in this bowtie and black suit, with people around him chattering seriously about homeland and security. He wished there was somewhere he could go to and just chill, but the balconies were way _over there_, at the other side of the large, open hall and Matt didn't feel like traipsing across a whole minefield of socialites and struggling with those heavy dark curtains just to get some fresh air.

The idea had a lot of appeal, though.

He let out an almost inaudible sigh and deeply regretted striking that deal with John.

"I went to a geek convention with you last week," John had said in a very determined voice. "Know what that means? That you have to attend this thing with me, this auction thing."

"_Why_?" Matt had whined. "And it wasn't even a geek convention, it was a DigitalLife consumer event. You make it sound like I went decked out in a spacesuit or something. I mean, we didn't even spend more than two hours there and you had fun! Admit it, you had fun."

"Yeah," John said in a tone that was both exasperated and mild, a combination that was so very _John_. "The same way a person has fun with a root canal. So, I have to go to this auction, it's for a couple of good causes, and you're going to come with me. We can't just do everything you want to do, that ain't fair. If we're doing this, we do this _together_."

"_This_?" Matt had asked breathlessly, totally forgetting that he had every intention to resist... _resist_, damnit, because he wasn't going to put on any goddamned suit and parade around the place while people fawned over John. He just _wasn't_ and he was standing very firmly on that point, _had been_, until John had pulled out the 'we'-business and Matt's insides had gone all happy and mushy. If John had said right then, "Hey kid, let's go jump off the Empire State Building without a 'chute, just me and you," Matt would have dreamily answered, "Sure, McClane, we'll do whatever you want."

"This," John had said impatiently, flapping a hand between himself and Matt. "This. Me and you. In this relationship thing. So, you coming?"

"Sure, McClane," Matt had replied on-cue with a stupidly happy grin, such a lovestruck _idiot_, but he couldn't help it, he simply _couldn't_. "We'll do whatever you want."

_That's what you get, man_, Matt now told himself sternly as he was being bored to tears at the bar, _that's what you get for letting McClane twist you around his finger like that_. He thought a little while about how many other things McClane could twist with his fingers and how awesome the twisting would feel and he fought down a blush.... and a burgeoning boner.

The buzz in the room died down a bit as the auctioning began again. They'd been going awhile before the little break, and Matt had been hissing at John about how this whole stupid thing was just some way for the uber-rich to do something visible enough, maybe make folks forget about any other greedy shit they'd done, until John had slipped away from him when he wasn't looking; McClane sure could be a sneaky bastard when he wanted to be. Matt had made his way to the bar, and had felt content for about six minutes, thinking he could spend the rest of the evening in this sector of the room. At the seventh minute, he had begun to look around for John and couldn't locate his shiny head.

"Boring, huh," some random dude said from beside him, and Matt shrugged glumly. "I mean, I nearly fell asleep in my drink, here."

Matt's laughter burst out of him almost against his will, and he turned to look at the guy; slim and tall, with longish dark hair, Matt recognized his face. He saw him around sometimes, coming from the Linguistics Department... whenever Bowman insisted Matt come into the office, that is.

"Hey, you're running low, I'll buy you another," the guy was saying and Matt shrugged again.

"Sure," he replied. "I'll drink some more of this over-priced crap, why not?"

The guy laughed and motioned to the bartender, before turning back to grin at Matt. "David Barnaby. So, did _your_ boss insist you come to this awesome shindig, too?"

"Yeah, you might say so," Matt said with a wry grin. "Matthew Farrell, network security." He always felt a little weird with that official title. The Warlock was probably cursing his name, or something.

"Oh, yeah." David's eyebrows went up. "I saw your picture in the paper, that was really amazing."

"It was crazy, too," Matt admitted and smiled some more at David's impressed face. The bartender set their drinks in front, and David clinked their glasses together, dragging another laugh out of Matt.

"Our next eligible hero," the announcer lady in the sparkly dress was saying on the stage, her hair huge and frighteningly blonde, "is one of New York's finest. Ladies, help me welcome our very own John McClane!"

_Eligible_? Matt froze, his drink halfway to his face. He turned his head slowly, and felt his eyes go wide at John striding along the stage, lit with a spotlight. John hadn't told him about this part; granted, maybe John was right not to tell him, because lately, Matt had been pretty cagey, even _he_ knew that. He would have probably thrown a huge fit if John had told him, much like the one he was _going_ to throw when they left this place, better believe that. It was so weird; once upon a time, he would have laughed off crap like this. Lots of folks weren't aware of this new development about Matt; they looked at him and thought he continued to be that same easy-going dude, and for the most part he _was_, except... except, recently, he had discovered he was a raging monster when it came to John McClane.

Oh, he had lots of reasons for that, he guessed. Maybe because he had been mostly ignored as a kid by his parents until they had needed him for something; they had been good parents, so far as making sure he was dressed and his stomach was full, that was the truth, but during the divorce they had played Matt like some kind of chess-piece, and Matt himself had figured ways to play _them_ against each other so he could have his way. Even when he had gotten into the habit of stealing cars, he had managed to make it seem as if he was still acting out against them, when it really had been just him being a bored, stupid kid.

So he'd learned to manipulate, he had learned not to take blame. And then John had come along with his crooked smile and solid nature and he didn't fall for most of Matt's lies and he seemed to like Matt even when Matt didn't like himself and he made Matt think that _hey_... hey, maybe he could be okay. Maybe he could be with someone who was also okay, and they'd be okay together. Maybe... and this was just a stretch here, but just _maybe_ they'd be okay together for a long time and that would be just awesome.

Of course, easier said than done. It was entirely possible that maybe Matt tried too hard sometimes; he overdid it, because he wanted to get it right, to get it perfect, the same way that he could make a program just _perfect_. All those streaming lines of code falling into place and doing exactly what he wanted them to do; humans just didn't work like that. Sometimes he saw exasperation in John's burning glare when they were arguing over something stupid, and Matt just lashed out even more, because he wanted to fix whatever it was and most times he didn't know how.

So, he had a temper and a deep jealous streak when it came to John. He was working on it, jeez.

But, nights like this just weren't helping matters at all. John was on stage with a small, tight smile on his face, an uncomfortable one, one that said, _I'll see this shit through to the end, see if I don't_. He looked amazing in his suit and tie, handsome and sure, nodding and smiling that same tiny smile as the ladies called out their bids, the rest of the room laughing and murmuring at the high amounts and the frantic nature of their calls. Matt suddenly had a very clear image, so vivid that it was almost a premonition: he saw himself clambering onto the stage and flinging himself onto John, glaring at the room as he screamed, "Mine! Mine! MINE!"

"Wow, I saw that dude in the paper too," David was saying beside him, but Matt barely heard him.

"Remember, the winning bid gets a night out with Detective McClane," the lady with the blond horror of a hairstyle said into the microphone, "and all proceeds will be donated to the..." she looked down at a card in her hand. "_The New York Police and Fire Widows and Children's Benefit Fund_. Whew!" she exclaimed with a huge wink. "What a mouthful! But I'm sure it's a worthy cause."

Matt rolled his eyes and John's smile became a little more brittle, but it remained firmly affixed nonetheless. Matt's little crazy image of himself muttered _mine_ in his head, and Matt tossed back the rest of his drink without tasting it, as the bidding went on.

"Sold!" The hostess screeched and Matt actually flinched. "Sold, to Mrs. Dory Parker!"

John smiled again, a warmer one as he went to the steps and descended quickly, disappearing from Matt's view.

"I gotta go," he told David faintly, and got up to push through the crowd, ignoring the squawks of the matriarchs he trampled over to get to his target. He saw John standing near a young, pale woman, her eyes large in her face as she stared up at John, who was shaking her hand and talking to her, that wry half-smile of his focused on her. Her glance flickered to Matt, who kind of hovered about like a carrion-bird, with the same expectation and hope of her imminent demise.

"As I saying, John... may I call you John?" The woman, Dory, was saying in a cool, cultured voice. Her gaze went back to John, dismissing Matt completely, and Matt seethed. She was pretty, (_in a broad kind of way_, Matt thought, feeling uncharitable. _Mannish, even_) with long dark hair that she tucked behind her ears now and again. Matt, who did that sometimes, saw this as a calculated move, one designed to make her look sweet and vulnerable; John was a _sucker_ for sweet and vulnerable, no matter how much he claimed otherwise.

"Sure," John told her easily, giving her little hand a squeeze. "Most people call me McClane, but that's when they're yelling at me."

She laughed, a tinkling, merry sound. Matt felt it drill into his eardrums. "Oh, but I would never want to yell at you, John!" She turned her head a little to the side and gave him a coquettish look out of the corner of her eye, and Matt suddenly realized where he had seen her and her faux-innocent face. She was a young heiress who had married a frail-appearing Texas landowner almost twice her age. Dory Parker was rumoured to have slept with a whole bunch of Hollywood leading men, the beefy types. Matt had seen this in the Enquirer he left on top of the toilet-tank at John's place; John would yell at him not to leave his stupid trash all over his damned apartment, and then end up reading them himself.

So this Dory was like Matt, in a way: she liked them older, she liked them strong, she liked them _John_. Matt nearly staggered under the weight of his jealousy as he watched her touch John on his chest, brushing some invisible particle away from the black material. He must have made some kind of noise, for John turned to him and smiled as if he was just now noticing Matt's presence.

"Oh, Dory... and I can call you Dory, right?" John smiled at her slow, shy nod. _Oh man, she's good... only evil. In an evil way_, Matt thought, and managed to smile as John motioned to him. "This is Matthew Farrell."

"Pleasure to meet you," Dory said flatly, holding out her pale, smooth hand limply. Matt took it and gave it a brisk shake. Her eyes were hard and challenging as she stared into Matt's face, angled away so that John couldn't see the expression.

"Same here." Matt hoped that he hadn't said what was really on his mind, which was something that ran along the lines of _back off, sweetcheeks, this big slab of amazing here, he belongs to _me _and nobody else_. She must have seen something in his eyes though, for her stare narrowed a bit. She took back her hand and casually removed the long swatch of silky material she had wrapped around her bare shoulders, revealing a very impressive bosom, for such a small person.

A really nice cleavage, a part of Matt noted, the part that was still pretty much into appreciating the feminine shape. The greater part of him, that which loved having John's solid weight sprawled over him and the hard line of cock pressed against his hip, was _seething_; because he knew that John was a self-proclaimed breast man. Well, he apparently liked chests in general, if Matt was to go on the way John liked to press his thumbs against Matt's nipples, rough hands pushed up under Matt's shirt and stroking slowly across the brown, eagerly puckered skin whenever they were making out.

_I can see you out of the corner of my eye, John McClane_, Matt thought with a mental sneer. _You look at this woman's chest and... and I will never attempt to suck your dick, I swear_.

Matt suddenly felt like one of those nagging people he'd always promised himself that he'd never become. So what if John looked? It was just looking, right?

_No_, a petulant part of him returned. _He's not supposed to_.

_Get a hold of yourself_, he told that part of himself harshly, with a fierce suddenness. _Grow a pair, as Luce would say. The dude's with you, you think McClane is the kind of man to fuck around like that, after all you two have been through? And not just all the exploding and shooting in that Fire Sale, either, but people looking at you funny when you go out, and all the whispering and laughing and suspicious shit. Just grow the hell up, and stop being that kid he always calls you._

Matt took a breath, a long, almost silent inhale and then exhaled just before he tried out a small smile of his own; it felt shaky on his face, but it was there. John blinked at him in uncharacteristic surprise, before his face smoothed out into its usual impassive mask.

"McClane, I'm just gonna head on home," Matt said, surprising himself with the level nature of his voice. "I'll see you later, ok?"

John grabbed him by the upper arm as he turned away.

"Excuse me, Dory," he said politely to Mrs. Parker, and bent close to Matt, saying low in his ear: "You ok, Matt?"

"I'm good," Matt replied; and he _was_, mostly. He turned his face a little, and his lips were so close to John's, right out here in the open. Even though they were just inches apart, he could still see when John's glance snapped quickly to his mouth and then back; he felt a smug wave of triumph fold over him. "I'm good, I'll just get a cab, it'll be cool." He turned to Dory Parker, holding his hand out again. "And it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker," he said, attempting to sound more sincere this time. It didn't come close, but at least he tried. "I hope you have a good time when you get your date with McClane here. It's really for an awesome cause."

Her expression remained narrow, and there was something else underneath: confusion... and maybe some kind of acknowledgement. She visibly gathered herself, and barely placed her fingertips in his palm. "I plan to, Mr. Farrell," she said, her tone striving for a chilly promise. Matt clenched his other fist tightly, but simply nodded to them both, and ambled away.

Right next to the main exit he spotted Bowman raising his eyebrows in his direction and veered over.

"I saw when you got yourself sold off, Bowman," Matt informed him, a sudden cocky good humour coming to him; from where, he only had a slight idea, but it kind of felt good to be taking control of himself like that. Felt damned good. "I was thinking about bidding, man, but those ladies are _lethal_. I don't have the money to waste, you know?"

Bowman gave him a sour look. "Maybe you should have. My ex-wife bought me. Don't you tell McClane, or I'll string your ass up on the roof when you get to the office on Monday."

Matt let out an amused snort, feeling more cheerful by the minute.

"Shit, here comes Lorraine," Bowman muttered, and scowled. Matt thought that this scowl didn't appear as forbidding as it should have. As a matter of fact, it seemed a little indulgent at the edges, and Matt thought that it looked very much like the stubborn expression John put on when he didn't feel like making up with Matt after some stupid argument, and Matt was trying to coax him into it. It was the same way his stony face went kind of soft, as if he didn't know it was doing that at all.

"Miguel," a lovely woman with laughing dark eyes said to him as she came up to them, standing beside the scowling Bowman and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow. Matt noticed that he relaxed it a little, so that her hand could slide between his arm and body more easily. "Miguel, they said that we can go anywhere I want us to go. So we're going to see the Philharmonic, and you can't tell me no."

"I know you're good with a gun when you want to be, Farrell," Bowman said in a monotone. "So go find one and shoot me now."

Bowman's ex-wife grinned at Matt, and he grinned back, liking her on the spot. Maybe the rumours about them getting back together were true. If so, that'd be kind of great. "He's mine for one night," Lorraine told him conspiratorially as Bowman continued to frown. "And he'll do whatever I want. I think he's a good catch, right?"

"Totally," Matt agreed, ignoring Bowman's look of scandalised betrayal. He glanced over his shoulder, and caught John's gaze, which was unreadable. Then, the corner of John's mouth pulled up in a slight smirk, and he inclined his head in Matt's direction before looking back down at Dory Parker. "He's a real great catch," Matt murmured.

He made his goodbyes, receiving an impulsive kiss on the cheek from Lorraine, and then went to get a cab.

* * *

Matt opened his eyes as he heard the front door shut quietly. He had left the light of the narrow little hall on and by it he could see that John was already inside, pulling his loosened bow tie from around his neck. Matt was stretched out on the long sofa under the thick comforter that really belonged in the tiny guest bedroom that acted as a small office as well, for Matt or when Lucy came over. Matt was dressed in an NYPD t-shirt and a pair of loose cotton track pants that he had culled from John's sturdy chest-of-drawers. They were pretty old and faded, but they were really comfy and they smelled of John. Matt wanted to snuggle in them all night.

"Hey," he called softly as John's gaze landed on him.

"Hey, there." John slid the dark jacket off, flexing his shoulders as if he had been carrying a heavy load for many hours.

"So," Matt said, sitting up and moving his legs so that John could sit down.

"So," John agreed, resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes briefly. He opened them again and then turned his head, regarding Matt. "You surprised me today."

"All part of my evil plan," Matt remarked, and then leaned forward, wanting a kiss. It was a short one, lips brushing lips, but Matt felt his stomach clench deliciously.

"Thought you'd hit the roof when you found out," John said, raising a hand to card his fingers through Matt's hair, before pulling him forward to kissing him again, slower, deeper. Matt let out a content little moan.

"No, it's cool," Matt murmured and John pulled back, eyebrows high with incredulity. Matt twisted his mouth. "Ok, so. I didn't think it was cool, _at first_, I was just about ready to hit the roof, like you said, but--"

"Why'd you feel that way?" John said in a low voice, hands already doing their sneaking act underneath Matt's shirt (which was really _his_, but Matt thought he might have plans for it). Matt felt the rough callouses of his hands slide against his skin and felt his skin burst into goosebumps in their wake. "Matt. You don't need to feel that way. I don't need to keep telling you that, do I?"

"Well, I know _already_." Matt hated the sullen tinge to his voice. John's face hardened a bit, and he began to pull away; Matt grabbed onto his hands, and shoved them back under his t-shirt, glaring at him the whole while. John looked torn between ripping his head off and giving him another kiss. "Look, it's just that I know it on the _surface_ of my brain, ok? But a lot of times I don't know it all the way down. That's how it is. You gotta give me time to get used to this, man. Compared to me, you're a damned _guru_ of relationships."

John just looked at him, that funny little half-smile playing around his mouth. He looked down at his hands which were underneath the grey t-shirt, far up enough so that a wide strip of Matt's stomach was already exposed. He ran his hands down Matt's sides, tickling him a little, and then went back up again, to his favourite thumbs-on-nipples spot. Matt just let him, enjoying the touch, enjoying John's quiet appreciation.

"You have to trust me," John finally said. "I'm not any guru, kid, I'm just too old to fuck around, so you just have to trust me."

"I'm trying," Matt told him quietly. "I mean, I really do trust you. And I'm trying."

John's smile was brilliant. God, when he smiled like that, he could get anyone to do anything for him. _He should smile like that more often_, Matt thought, and made a resolution to get it out of him on a regular basis.

"I saw. But Matt," and here he bent close, lips brushing one of Matt's cheeks, "you probably think you're the only one with a jealous streak, huh."

"Huh?" Matt echoed, not really following, because John's hands were working their magic again, and all the blood in his brain was apparently making its way down to his cock.

"You know. When you were at the bar, that guy was seconds away from me coming over and kicking his teeth in."

"Get out, man," Matt said breathlessly, because one of John's hands was slipping down, curling around his cock through the soft material of the track-pants. "You're not serious."

"What did I just tell you about trusting me?" John squeezed a little harder and Matt heard his own groan, which was soft and weak, as if he was boneless. "_Trust me_. He'll never know how close he came."

Matt couldn't kiss him fast enough. He lunged forward, grabbing onto John's shoulders and pushing him back, wrestling him down so that John was lying on his back, Matt settling in the V of his strong thighs. They were kissing and laughing and when Matt shifted down a little so that he could feel the hot, hard length of John's cock pressed against his own, the laughter became low moans and breaths hissed in through clenched teeth. Matt had been nervous about _actual sex_, and had been dancing around the issue, amazed at John's patience at the same time, but he felt so giddy and aroused right now, he could just fuck John right through the floor, and happily _get_ fucked.

Maybe later; _definitely_, he'd be trying that out later, because he was pressing his face into John's neck right now, biting the skin there and groaning as John's hips bucked up into his. John's hands were still up his shirt, but around his back, fingers clenching the skin there so tight that Matt felt that if he peered over his shoulder at the mirror tomorrow, he might see bruised bands that matched John's fingers.

_Oh yeah Dory Parker, you_ wish _you could get some of this_, Matt wanted to think smugly, but he was a bit busy coming in his boxers, and John was kind of laughing weakly, saying, "Jesus, my fucking _pants_," and maybe, just maybe, they'd be okay together for a long time.

And that would be just awesome.

_**fin**_.


End file.
